


i will kill you

by ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE



Category: EOS 10 (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, akmazian's definitely fake accent, hand wavey injury, i hc ryan as nb but it really isn't addressed in this, set season 1 ish, threats as flirting, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE/pseuds/ARASHINARUKAMISWIFE
Summary: Akmazian sighed, leaning back onto his cot. “This is nice, Doctor. Just the two a’ us, gossipin’ and what-have-ya. Once I get done runnin’ circles around the Alliance, it'd be nice to do this more.”“You're deflecting.”“You don't care what my business is.”“I do when it gets you shot.”





	i will kill you

**Author's Note:**

> great at: dialects  
> bad at: feelings 
> 
> the end was weird to write but i hope you enjoy

“You seem a little peeved, darlin’.”

Ryan channeled every ounce of peevishness at this ridiculous man - alleged terrorist, black market broker, certifiable pain in the ass - into tearing a piece of gauze with his teeth. Not the most sanitary, but some sins can be forgiven. “I hate you,” he hissed, wrapping Akmazian’s shoulder as fast as he could. “I hate you and your shitty face and shitty hair -” 

“I just got shot! I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to - FUCK!”

Ryan eased up the pressure on the newly-wrapped wound - plasma rifle, fairly standard. How anyone has time to be shot on Eos 10 is anyone’s mystery. Ryan would love to be shot right about now. Fatally. “Are all terrorists as sensitive as you or are you just special?” 

Akmazian tried a smile. It looked more like a sweaty, pale grimace. “Just for you, darlin’.” 

Ryan almost smirked, almost flirted back - is that what his life is now? Flirting with enemies of the Galaxy in cargo holds? - when Akmazian started to lean dangerously forward. Ryan shot forward, bracing his body before it hit the unforgiven floor of the cargo bay. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “This would be easier if you weren’t built like a brick shit-house.”

“Language, doctor.” Akmazian coughed, then made a noise that screamed regret. “What the hell was in that pill?”

“I told you it would be bad.”

“And as usual, you were right. Will the headache last long?”

Ryan wiped his face with the back of his hand. When it came away red, he frowned. “Keep asking questions and you won’t live long enough to find out. Do you have a bed somewhere?”

“My, my, Doctor, quite forward a’ you -”

“Shut. Up.”

Akmazian smirked. “Cot’s tucked up u’nerneath that tarp behind you. Room enough for two, if you don't feel like making the trip back topside.” 

Ryan found the tarp situated between two cargo boxes. It was a heavy, dark material, and when he pushed it aside, a gun the size of his torso stared up at him. The cot was underneath. 

“Huh,” he said, nudging the gun away with his foot. “Jane would love that.”

Akmazian coughed. “She a shooter?”

“Best in the Academy, or so I'm told.” Ryan spread the cot out beside Akmazian, casting a glance at his wound. “I wouldn't know. The most contact I have with guns is - well, this.” Blood was seeping slowly from underneath the bandage. Not enough to be concerning, but not encouraging, either. “What were you even doing?” 

“You sure you want the answer to that?”

Ryan really didn't. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.”

Akmazian sighed, leaning back onto his cot. “This is nice, Doctor. Just the two a’ us, gossipin’ and what-have-ya. Once I get done runnin’ circles around the Alliance, it'd be nice to do this more.” 

“You're deflecting.”

“You don't care what my business is.” 

“I do when it gets you shot.”

Akmazian gasped, throwing his uninjured arm across his forehead like the swooning protagonist of a Soap Opera. “Doctor Dalias, you do care!” He cast a glance at Ryan.

Ryan, with his infinite amount of patience and willpower, decided killing Akmazian would make his life a lot more complicated in the long run. So he punched him in the stomach instead. “Oh, be quiet,” he said to Akmazian, now doubled over in pain, “it wasn't that hard.”

“You don't punch a man when he's down, Doctor,” Akmazian coughed. “it's unbecoming.”

“One of these days, I will kill you.” Ryan leaned back, watching as Akmazian ran the words through his pretty brain. “I've been asking Jane for some pointers.”

“Well that sure as hell ain't terrifyin’.” Akmazian reclined on the cot, raising his head to the ceiling of the cargo hold. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I was followin’ up on a lead. Source a’ mine got wind of some sensitive documents regarding the Adrarian Sector. Source wanted a price I didn't feel like payin’.”

Ryan blanched. “Did you kill them?”

Akmazian said nothing. His eyes remained closed. Ryan knew that was the closest to a yes as he was going to get. 

“Glad I didn't pay up,” he said after a moment. “The documents were fake. It was all an elaborate ruse to get me out of hidin’.” He chuckled - no cough, which was an improvement - and looked over to Ryan. He was still hunched over Akmazian, the contents of his medkit strewn around him. “It's like I'm famous or somethin’.”

“Or something,” he said lightly, packing away the medkit. “I'm, uh… Glad it didn't pan out. I would rather have you here and injured than with the Alliance and fine.” 

Akmazian’s breath caught, his heart skipped, every cliche all at once because it was Ryan and he was worried about him and he wanted him here, safe. Ryan was watching him, and tilting his head in that way when he got confused, and suddenly Akmazian could breathe again. The air smelled like pink hair-dye and whatever cheap cologne he used, but it was nice. Wonderful, even. 

“Oh.”

“Huh?” Ryan slid the medkit aside, inching his way onto the edge of the beat-up cot. Heat blossomed where his knee made contact with Akmazian’s hip. “I couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad noise.”

“S’nothin’, darlin’.” Akmazian let his head hit the cot. 

They sat for a while, just looking at one another, breathing in the stale air of the cargo bay. The station creaked and groaned, pipes hissing and metal popping. It was the closest thing to domesticity Akmazian had experienced while on the lam. 

“Stay the night, Doctor.”

“Ryan,” he corrected. “Call me Ryan. Or … don’t, it’s up to you.” 

“Ryan,” Akmazian tried, shifting to make room next to him, “stay the night with me.” 

Ryan made a quiet show of thinking it over; looking at his watch, fidgeting with the medkit zipper, pulling up his schedule for good measure. “I,” he swallowed, “I suppose I should. To make sure you don’t bleed out during the night.” As he spoke, he began to shrug off his coat. 

“Uh’course,” Akmazian said, matching his totally convincing and not at all nervous tone. “It’d be a shame if you couldn’t get on with your threats.” 

Ryan shifted closer, seemingly wanting to get closer but afraid to do so. This is good, Akmazian thought, boundaries. First steps. 

If Akmazian woke up and Ryan wasn’t there, he wouldn’t complain. If he didn’t wake up at all, he’d let it go. Ryan will be the death of him, one way or another.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me 2 months to write and yes there were italics somewhere in here but im too lazy to go back and add them
> 
> tldr season 3 didn't happen and akmazian's accent is REAL damn it


End file.
